Danger Days: The Killjoys Plus 1
by safetypinstitches2712
Summary: Based on My Chemical Romance's videos from Danger Days. The little girl isn't in this. What happens when a teenage girl is left to be taken care of by the killjoys? Will she become a new family member? Drabble unless reviews ask for otherwise. R
1. Chapter 1

**A/N as I mentioned, this is a drabble that I wrote on my IPod. I had a plot idea in my head and had to get it down but the question is whether anyone would read it. So here I am. This drabble's life depends on your reviews. If you like it, you NEED TO TELL ME.**

For Party Poison, fighting the Better Living Industry cronies was not a war but a game. It was technicolor and individuality VS. black-and-white monotony. He knew the odds of him and the rest of the crew winning were slim, but there was no obvious harm in trying, except maybe dying in the process. He blew the tip of his laser gun, having to have used it nonstop for the last few minutes. It seemed that at the moment they were winning: they had shot down at least a dozen Draculoids in the dessert, and nearly had gotten the leader, the grim-faced bald guy they knew to be named Korse.

"No dog food tonight boys, we've got reason to celebrate!" he smiled as they approached their car in the distance, parked randomly in the middle of the dessert. Fun Ghoul smirked smugly.

"Aww, but I _like_ dog food!" he pouted childishly. Kobra Kid shook his head.

"_Of course_ you do..." he muttered.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Ghoul shot back. He wasn't entirely serious, that much was obvious. He never was.

"Means I couldn't imagine anything less coming from you," Kobra retorted, smiling.

"Excuse me, I hate to disrupt your pointless banter, but we appear to have a bit of a problem," Jet Star said, eyeing their car. In the distance there appeared to be something on the back, something that clearly hadn't been there before. They exchanged mute glances, and continued to stride toward their car. The nearer they got, the more they could make out of the mysterious foreign object. Size, shape and color slowly became visible to them little at a time until they could see it clearly. Only it wasn't exactly an 'it'. It was a her.

"What the..." Party Poison murmured.

Poison stared blankly down at the unmoving body placed deliberately on the back of their car. Next to it was a worn piece of paper that was being held down by a desert rock. After a moment of taking in the appearance of the body, he picked up the rock from the paper and threw it on the ground. He cautiously lifted the paper from its place and read the words that were before him, written in rushed, feminine hand writing.

_Killjoys-_

_You don't know me, but I am asking you to do me the biggest favor in the world. Or at least it would seem so to me. You see this girl? She's my little sister. And I am Lady Leech. You've probably heard of me at this point; I am like you guys, only we were in New York when...__**IT **__happened. When the world was wiped out and people were starting to be hypnotized by the Better Living cronies. As you probably already know, we traveled down here hearing it was safer only to find it was all the same. Gone was emotion and color. And so we have been fighting BL/ind just as you all have been. Only difference is I'm about to die. They're hot on my trail and you are the only chance my sister has of getting out of this alive. She wouldn't be able to make it alone; she's just too young and fragile. Emotionally anyway. Do not doubt her strength; I trained her and I trained her pretty damn well, though there is room for improvement._

_Her name is Sarah, but her codename is Crash Baby. She deserves a life where she can feel happiness, sadness, anger or whatever she wants. I trust you can give her a chance to live, and truly live._

_Don't bother looking for me, I'm most likely dead. They've probably found me by now._

_Thank you,_

_Lady Leech aka Beatrix "Bea" Heller._

_P.S, the wound on the head was from a close call with the BL/ind goons. I wouldn't ask her about it if I were you. Which leads me to my next tip: when she does wake up, __**do not stare at her eyes.**__ It would be a very easy thing to do, but it makes her uncomfortable, though if you complement her on them she'll be less fidgety. You'll understand this warning once she wakes up. _


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Well, you asked for more, and I wrote more. Not like I could have kept the idea this big silent though. And just to let you guys know, the girl, Sarah aka Crash Baby? That's me. It was my original Killjoy name in accordance to the name generator online, but I pushed it aside and thought of another one, one a bit more creative and fitting for me. Anyway, she is me. She's a bit more comical then me, but what Killjoy isn't? But I should stop blabbing about myself now and let you read the chapter.**

**By the Way (pun intended), if any of the Killjoys seem out of character, let me know. **

**Copyright: I don't own anything My Chemical Romance related. I do own myself though…wait that sounds weird…**

"Is she awake yet?" Fun Ghoul asked. Kobra Kid muffled a growl in the back of his throat that was just _itching _to get out.

"No, Ghoul, she is not awake yet. She hasn't been for the last 5 hours you've been asking. Honestly, it'll probably be a while before she comes around. That bruise on her head is going to be an eyesore when it turns black and blue," He winced, "the gash on her forehead didn't look that great either."

"At least Poison is taking care of the gash. It could have gotten a lot worse if she hadn't found help," Jet Star piped up.

"Always the voice of optimism," Kobra smiled wryly, "yeah, but she should be fine. It's only a few stitches and a very hideous bruise. Not like she'll die or anything. Hell, if she's lucky she might not even have a scar."

"Well, seeing that her sister just dumped her on us and is probably dead, she doesn't seem like the lucky type so far," Ghoul frowned.

"Truer words have never been spoken," Jet nodded.

They were sitting in what was the closest thing they had to a home: an underground apartment, where they could not be detected by the Draculoids. It was as cozy as a home underground could get: relatively dark, yes, but worn and bright with color splashed here and there. They were in what would have been the living room, on a circular couch with a little island in the center where their coffee cups sat. Poison had left the room only while before, having to have had come to the conclusion with them that the girl was going to stick around as long as she needed.

So, he had gone to the bedroom where he had laid her, and cleaned the gash on for forehead. He was just getting to the stitches at the moment.

He found himself replaying the letter in his mind over and over in a repetitive, continuous loop. He couldn't help but mentally pause at the bit about the girl's eyes. What could possibly be so strange about them that he could just stare at him the way Lady L - Beatrix had described? He observed the worn appearance of the young girl, including a small dirt smudge on her face. He gently wiped it away with his finger, and his eyes automatically fell on her closed eyes. Why couldn't she just wake up so he could see?

She appeared to be in her mid to late teens, so Poison had a feeling if she were to stick around she wouldn't be an easy person to keep control of. He sighed and pushed his red hair away from his face and mentally readied himself for the next bit: stitches. To say he was scared out of his mind was an understatement. He hadn't done this type of thing enough to know what was right and what was wrong, and considering the fact he hated the sight of blood didn't make it much easier. He did use a laser gun after all, instead of a real gun for that reason. He threaded the needle and shakily held it. Needles were another thing he hated. After a moment he gently began to weave it from either side of the gash, pulling the ends of the cut together so that it formed a strange line. Once he was done he smiled down at his handiwork and put small strips of medical tape on it vertically so it would stay together.

Walking back to the living room, he wondered what they would be eating for dinner. They didn't have much of a stash, but it was occasion enough to try to make something out of the ordinary, even if none of them cooked very well.

"Hey Poison!" they greeted him in unison. He smiled sheepishly: his friends were all he really needed to get by in any situation. Brother included too, really.

"How is she? How is she? How is she?" Ghoul bounced in his seat. He had the impeccable appearance of an eager child.

"Sure she's seen better days but she'll be alright. She should be coming around in a while," he smiled patiently.

"And the cut?" Jet asked.

"Sewed it up. Shouldn't have a problem with it," he responded automatically, the words flowing smoothly.

"And the worst that can go wrong?" Kobra asked.

"Infection, but that can be treated pretty easily," he whipped back. He had been prepared for these questions as soon as he had set foot in the bedroom ready to treat this girl, Sarah. This _Crash Baby._

"So boys, what will it be? We've got Spanish rice and some beans and maybe even some chicken. Sound like a good meal?" he asked with a grin.

He got enthusiastic response from all of them. He laughed to himself: he could practically see them salivating. Not that he could blame them: the casualty these days was Power Pup. He washed his hands and filled an old, battered and dented pan and filled it with water and turned on the stove, the flames roaring to life. The beans he would have to boil too, so he took out another small pan, filled it with water and set it on the other flame and let the two sit to boil. He was in the middle of messing with the chicken when Jet asked;

"So what are we going to do with this girl, Poison?"

Poison visibly stiffened and paused. His mind reeled as he realized he didn't have a reply.

"Honestly Jet? I have no fucking clue," he confessed.

"We can't just leave her though; she's all alone according to that letter. And she's not old enough to survive alone," Jet said informatively.

"I know, I know. I'm just not sure, that's all," Poison defended, his hands in the air and still facing the old stove. There was no wall distancing the living room from the kitchen and was technically the dining room according to its proximity.

"I mean, a teenage girl? Would be able to handle that?" he asked, adding seasoning to the chicken as it broiled in its frying fan. Kobra laughed.

"If we can shoot down a bunch of Dracs we should be able to take care of a teenage girl," he laughed heartily.

"A_** rebellious**___teenage girl. Could we handle a rebellious teenage girl?" he asked, getting more and more concerned with the matter.

"Bro, I hate to remind you but we're not exactly slaves to the Dracs either," Kobra lashed back at his big brother with a smiled. They were outlaws, the same as she.

"...I just don't know. She might slow us down..." he shook his head, not finishing the thought.

"The letter said she was a pretty good fighter though..." Ghoul said quietly. It wasn't like him to be quiet in any way, but seeing that Poison wasn't in the best mood he knew better then to be blunt about his opinion.

"The letter said a lot of things, Ghoul. I'm just not sure extent to believe it though," he sighed, "it could have easily been an exaggeration of her ability to fight to get us to take care of her, to take her in. Because let's face it, if Lad- Beatrix had come straight out and said in that letter 'she sucks at fighting, sorry. You'll need to fight _for_ her' what would the odds have been of us wanting to take that on our shoulders?" he asked, his voice becoming sad.

"And what if she doesn't suck at fighting?" Ghoul asked hopefully, with a small smile.

"Then we'd have that much less to worry about." Poison said flatly. He let the chicken fry in the fan, the grease bubbles sizzling. Ghoul smiled broadly.

"So does that mean we're going to keep her?" he asked. You would have thought he was referring to a stray kitten.

"For now," Poison murmured.

"Yes!" Ghoul punched the air. Jet and Kobra smiled wide, loving the idea of having a new Killjoy among them, even if it was just for a little while. Poison tried to bite back a smile and failed, his lips curving with pleasure. Even he had to admit the prospect of having a new Killjoy was exciting.

He moved the chicken around the pan, not letting the pieces burn and wanting them to cook evenly. His smile widened as the distant name _"Rachel Ray"_ popped into his mind.

Jet, Ghoul, and Kobra's gazes snapped as they heard the sound of a door creaking open. Could the Dracs have found them? Poison remained unaware, focusing on dinner and smiling at thoughts of the past, before the days the Killjoys and the Dracs. Footsteps creaked down the hall, the Killjoys who had noticed pulled out their laser guns. What they saw next though, they were not ready for.

"Where the _hell_ am I? Who the hell are all of you?"

**Cliffhanger! But no worries, I'm already busy with the next chapter…which I will post if you review. Yeah, I'm making you guys work for it. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Hello my dear killjoys, it's nice to see that you seem to like my story thus far. My only complaint is I worry once I really state that this is a story, not just a drabble, you will stop caring altogether. Sad thought, yes, but I know it can easily happen. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Danger Days, My Chemical Romance or anything of that matter.**

For a moment Poison's mind failed to register the voice behind him, but once it had he turned around and everything felt as though it were in slow motion. There stood Sarah, the girl who they had rescued, shakily clutching a laser gun and aiming right at him. She looked paler then death, and scared out of her mind.

"Oh god..." Poisoned uttered.

How do you tell someone that they were dumped on you while they were unconscious and that the person who had previously taken care of them was dead? All the while with a gun pointed at you?

How indeed.

She stared at him, tears in her eyes, the gun pointed straight at his heart. The look in her eyes said she didn't want to shoot, yet she continued to clutch the gun. _'Crap'_ Poison thought_, 'if I don't open my mouth I'll end up dead at the hands of a teenager.'_

"W-well, you're in our home underground where we can't we detected..." Poison gulped, "We're the Killjoys, you may have heard of us," he nervously stepped closer to the girl, "Well, your sister, she, uh, she left us to take care of you."

She stared at him blankly, tears in her eyes.

"Where is my sister?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice fierce, all the while the gun shaking in her hand.

"She…" He struggled to find the right words, his mind reeling, "…I'm so sorry…" he murmered weakly, knowing that the next words to come out of his mouth were to be life altering, "…she's _dead_." He said, his voice cracking at the end. He hadn't known the woman, but it didn't matter; they had still lost one of their own.

The girl collapsed to her knees, sobbing.

"No, no, no! That can't be!" she practically screamed. Anyone could see she was desperate.

"She can't be!" she cried in a broken voice.

Poison took her into his arms and she sobbed, tears soaking through his clothing. All the while Jet, Kobra and Ghoul watched wordlessly, not sure what to do.

Poison wordlessly held her shaking form, rubbing her back. Even if she was a stranger, she still deserved comfort. Even if she had aimed a gun at him.

He sat with her for hours, until she had managed to cry herself to sleep. He stroked her hair gently as she slept, feeling all too empathetic to her. He knew she would eventually wake up again and resume her mourning, and when she did he would be there. He sang under his breath, knowing he wouldn't be heard.

"Do or die, you'll never make me, because the world will never take my heart. Though you'll try, you'll never break me. We want it all, we want to play this part. I won't explain, or say I'm sorry. I'm unashamed; I'm going to show my scar. Give a cheer for all the broken. Well listen here, because it's who we are! I'm just a man, I'm not a hero..." he sighed, "I'm not a hero," he muttered.

He shifted the girl's sleeping body in his arms so that he was hugging her to him. She moaned in her sleep, and snuggled closer. She really didn't seem that bad. She had taken the news considerable well; he'd heard of people who had thrown up on the spot to the point of spitting up blood when told that a person they loved had died. A solitary tear slid down her cheek as she slept. _'Incredible...' _he thought, _'she can't even find an escape in her dreams.' _he wiped the tear away from her cheek.

He knew from the silence that behind him his friend and brother had fallen asleep on the couch. They hadn't budged from their spots, and were all slumped in odd positions that would likely hurt once they woke. He smirked: he was never going to hear the end of it once they woke up. The girl shifted restlessly and mumbled half asleep.

"Why?" she whispered.

Poison silently stared at her, pondering whether or not to answer: she was after all, barely awake and would probably not even remember once she awoke. Even if she did, she would probably dismiss it as a dream. But he didn't care, she deserved an answer.

"She loved you enough to realize her death was inevitable in the situation she was in, and didn't want you to...," he thought over his next words carefully, "go down with her."

The girl scoffed tiredly.

"But leaving me alone...?" she asked dazed, "with a bunch of strangers?" she shook her head, her eyes still closed. Poison considered this statement.

"She probably figured you were better alive and in care then dead, which would have been in vain," he said gently. She shook her head.

"At least if I had died I would have been with her," she sniffed. He shook his head and smiled as he spoke his thoughts out loud.

"Kid, they very well might be no Heaven or Hell. In which case no one would be with anyone anywhere."

"Well, that would suck. Then I'd never be with Bea again at all," she murmured bleakly. He ran his fingers through his hair in thought.

"Bigger point is, don't you think she wanted you to go on with your life?" he asked gently.

"I guess, but I...," she yawned, her eyes remaining closed, "I don't know how it is I can do that. She...she was the one person who kept me from giving up on life. She was the reason I never gave in to the Better Living goons." she muttered. Poison cocked his head.

"Don't you think you could just hold onto that feeling of determination?" he asked. Wasn't like him to say things bluntly like that, but he couldn't find a way around it. She shrugged weakly.

"I honestly don't know anymore," she breathed, another fat tear falling down her cheek and onto his shirt. He hugged her close again, only feeling slightly awkward: it was a basic instinct for him. He bent his head down to her ear.

"You are a ballsy little girl," he murmured, "I bet ya 2 laser guns you can get through this," he smiled.

"Try calling me a little girl again, **I dare you**," she whispered harshly.

"You didn't hear anything after that did you?" he asked sadly.

"Not so much," she smirked sleepily, "I know this is probably all a dream anyway. What's the point in listening to every last word when I'll probably end up forgetting it anyway?"

Poison paused.

"And if it's not?" he asked.

"I'll be damned if it's not. No one could ever be this kind to me without some kind of motive. Really learned that the hard way with the Better Living creeps. They tried to lure me in with compliments," she snorted.

Poison stared at her stunned in the dim lighting. Had her faith in humanity really dipped so low?

"You don't think it's possible for people to care about each other?" he asked.

"Not much. Bea seemed to be the last person with a clear mind and a good heart. No compassion elsewhere really," another tear slipped, "which is why I am going to miss her so bloody much."

He hugged her closer and rubbed her back as she began to cry into his chest. As soon as she seemed to stop he thought it was okay to speak.

"Look," he whispered gently, "I wouldn't lose hope if I were you. Because I think that there are at least some kind people left in the world. And I'm sure they would love to have you," he smiled. She shook her head and smiled vaguely.

"Such big hopes you have..." she drifted. After a few silent moments Poison found it was safe to say she was back to sleep. That didn't stop her from crying though.

Several times she had nightmares which caused her to cry in her sleep, and several times Poison had woken her up and made an attempt to comfort her. There had even been a couple of points where he had even gotten up to get her tissues. And during the last of his trips he just went to retrieve an entire box.

She had murmured countless "thank you"s to which he had responded to with hugs and "don't lose sleep over it"s.

They were there, sitting on the floor for what felt like an entire night, and with every night a morning is sure to follow. And when it did, and everyone woke, she was gone as though she had never existed.

**A/N Ooo, look, I ended with another cliffhanger! Diabolical little old me! If you want to read the next chapter you are going to have to work for it! Don't get me wrong, subscriptions are nice, but I like reviews better: tells me what it is I'm doing right and wrong. So what do you say, leave me a review and get a new chapter in return? Sounds like a fair trade to me!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N hello my dear Killjoys! Here is that chapter I promised you! Ooo and what's that? I answered another one of my cliffhangers? R&R!**

The Killjoys immediately searched the apartment, and it didn't take them long to figure out where she was; the only locked door was the bedroom in which she had been in before. They could have easily shot the doorknob, but instead they decided to leave her alone to mourn.

In truth they were all worried about her, but none so much as Poison because he had seen just how deeply she had been wounded. But they all figured it was normal, the wanting to be alone. They had been through loss themselves: when BL/ind took over, they had lost one of their own to them. His name had been Bob, but they had taken away his individuality and his personality, so that he was no longer the person he had been. They all knew what it was like to lose someone. They knew it only too well.

They knew she was sneaking out of her room while they were sleeping. They knew because their food supply had a small dent in it, which had seemed to come out of nowhere. If it hadn't been for Ghoul pointing it out, they never would have noticed. It was funny; Poison had tried to stay awake and catch her, talk to her, but he would always end up falling asleep. And as soon as his eyes closed and his mind began to settle, he would hear soft and nearly inaudible footsteps.

If was only after 5 weeks that they began to really get concerned. She never left her room with the exception of getting food, and had cut contact with them all together. She was like a phantom; her presence was latent. And no one could find a way to stop her. They reserved shooting the door handles for emergencies, and they had no clear reason to believe the girl was in any danger.

Poison made a routine of sitting by her door for at least an hour a day, trying to hear her within her room. He always heard the same thing though: heart-wrenching sobs and ceaseless sniffles. He and the rest of the Killjoys had tried to coax her into talking or leaving her room multiple times at this point, but it never worked. She never even did so much as speak a single protest. She just lived a quiet existence in what had become her bedroom. Poison had tried everything he could think of, even slipping notes under her door and asking for a reply. He never actually got any. He knew by that fifth week they had reason enough to worry. The others were concerned as well, and had knocked on her door many times, asking if she could let them in. She never gave an answer nor unlocked the door.

And during one of the nights of the fifth week, Poison decided enough was enough. He drank more cups of coffee than he had ever had in his life (not that he minded -he _loved_ the stuff) and lay on the couch, and waited while pretending to be asleep. After what felt like hours of waiting, he heard the sound he had so been pining to hear.

Footsteps.

He waited for the right moment before speaking.

"You know, meals with us aren't so bad either," he said humorously.

She froze in her spot mid-step and stared at him. She stood there and stared at him mutely like a dear in headlights, before collapsing, sobs claiming her once more. Poison wondered if this would ever come to an end. He took her in his arms and she weakly protested, but he wouldn't let her go. He waited a few minutes for her to calm down before speaking.

"Now, would you care to tell me why you have been acting so anti-social?"

She blinked back tears and mumbled something in a broken voice. He shook his head.

"Sorry, but I didn't get any of that. Could you say it again?"

She sighed.

"I said," she mumbled slightly indignant, "that I didn't know you were supposed to be social when your best friend dies," she said bitterly.

"Five weeks is a long time, kid," he murmured.

"Oh is that how long it's been? I stopped keeping count a while ago," she snapped, her voice sad. A tear rolled down her cheek and Poison shook his head as she roughly wiped it away with the back of her hand.

"It sucks, losing someone. Believe me. I know. We all do. We lost one of our friends when...well when Better Living started to take over. We needed time to ourselves so we could mourn, but we never hid it from each other, and it certainly never lasted 5 weeks. Talking to each other about it eventually helped us move on," he explained.

"But you didn't know her! None of you did! You couldn't understand!" she cried, indignation shining in her eyes, and her lips trembling.

"That's very true, but I know what it feels like to go through the pain," he said simply.

"You wouldn't understand..." she frowned, another tear welling up in her eye.

"Why don't you try me?" he asked. A tiny smile curved her lips.

"That phrase is a bit cliché, don't you think?" she asked. He smiled and laughed.

"I suppose it is. But you understand what I mean. Tell me what's on your mind, kid."

She frowned and tearfully explained the regret She felt at taking her sister for granted and never having to have told her how important she has been to her. How she missed her and hated knowing she would never see her again, never just be able to talk to her again about the random subjects they had discussed frequently. She explained how she missed the little details of her sister's wacky outfits, the way she did her bright make up and taught her how to throw strong punches and fire a gun. How together they had once taken down over a dozen Dracs. The way she had always cheered her up when she missed her parents, who had perished long before.

And near the end of it all, Poison thought it a good idea to turn on a light. And for the first time, he really noticed the girl's eyes.

They were large brown doe eyes, and extraordinarily, they were speckled with different shades of violet and purple. They were hypnotic. Poison couldn't help but find himself staring at each of the three dimensional specks of purple, surrounded by a dark caramel brown. It was only when she cleared her throat and blushed that he realized his big mistake.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but stare at them...they're just...mind me saying so...beautiful," he stumbled meaning the words but mindful of Beatrix's written advice. She shook her head and mumbled a bashful reply.

"It's alright. Happens." she restlessly ran her fingers through her shoulder length wavy brunette hair. He chuckled, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry if it's...weird, I don't mean to stare. They're just so...different. I've never seen eyes quite like yours, kid," he smiled sheepishly. She did the same, but managed a swift reply.

"You can call me Sarah. Or...I guess if you like...by my code name...Crash Baby," she offered shyly.

"I like them both. 'Crash Baby'...," he smirked _'how appropriate'_ he thought silently, "it'll work well around here. Why don't you take a shower and let me run your clothes through the wash. How were you able to wear dirty clothes and not take showers for so long?" he asked, genuinely curious. She smirked.

"I didn't. The showers, I mean. Sometimes I would take one while you were sleeping, but only if I was **positive** you wouldn't wake up. Which was rare enough. The clothes? Please, me and my sister... We lived on the go, and when you've got no time to stop and no where to go, clothes are the last thing you're worried about. I've been through worse."

Poison whistled and she bowed dramatically.

"I'm impressed," he admitted as Sarah walked over to the end of the room. He paused before speaking once more.

"Hey Crash Baby," he smiled as she turned around at the threshold of the bathroom, "welcome to the fabulous Killjoy family," he said warmly. An ear to ear smile spread across her face, and tears filled her eyes. Only this time they weren't of sadness. They were of joy.

**A/N Well you guys, what do you think? I was kind to you and answered a cliffhanger and decided not to end with one. I think I deserve some reviews. I mean, that's the only way you'll ever get me to post more anyway *evil grin*.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N Hello my darling readers! My apologies about this one taking a bit of time: I started this thing during winter break when I had more time, and now that schools back on I don't have as much leisure time. Anywho, I'm going to put a bit of a song in here called Brick By Boring Brick by Paramore…that I used to listen to while I still like them :/. I just thought it would be fitting for Crash Baby...me. Wow, all of this ends up sounding weird when I place myself in a story. **

Crash Baby stripped out of her filthy clothing, and threw it outside the bathroom. Yes, she was slightly embarrassed that among them was a bra, but that was nothing against the immense joy she was feeling. Nothing could have readied her for the kindness she had just received, nothing. No one had ever cared enough to go out of their way and do something like that for her. And while it caught her off guard, it was the most pleasant surprise she had ever received.

Here she was, with people the same as her, and being welcomed with open arms, even after the crying fits she had had.

She turned the water on to the shower and adjusted it to the warmest temperature she could stand. She smiled as the warmth spread throughout her body. It had been a while since she had felt this happy and at ease. She scrubbed her scalp with the shampoo, washing out the grime that had settled. She poured herself a giant glob of conditioner in her hand before running it through her hair, and brushing it through. She sighed and embraced the melody running through her mind, and before she knew it her voice was bouncing off the walls.

_"Well she lives in a fairytale, somewhere too far for us to find. Forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she's left behind. 'It's all about the exposure, the lens,' I told her. Well the angles are all wrong now she's ripping wings off of butterflies. Keep your feet on the ground...when your heads in the clouds,"_ Crash Baby inhaled, _"Well go get your shovel, and we'll dig a deep hole! To bury the castle! Bury the castle! Go get your shovel and we'll dig a deep hole, to bury the castle! Bury the castle! Ba dah ba ba da ba ba bada!"_ she sang, sounding slightly quirky. She continued to sing; unknown to her she was being listened to.

_"Well you built up a world of magic, because your real life is tragic, yeah you built up a world of magic..." _she sighed and sang the next verse will a bittersweet smoothness, _"well if it's not real, you can't hold it in your hands, you can't feel it with feel your heart. And I won't believe it, but if it's true you can see it with your eyes or even in the dark...and that's where I want to be yeah!"_ she sang the chorus again, her voice bouncing off the plaster walls and being heard by Poison's ears. He had come to retrieve her dirty laundry and he ended up hearing her sing in the shower. Didn't that figure? Next thing he heard was her clapping her hands.

"Bah dap bah bah bah bah bada, ba dap ba ba ba ba ba ba, ba dap ba ba ba ba ba da ba da ba ba ba ba ba ba! ba dap ba ba ba ba ba da, ba dap ba ba ba ba ba ba! Ba dap ba ba ba ba ba ba ba dap ba ba ba ba ba ba...!" she finished unexpectedly. He didn't have to see her to know she was smiling wide. There was a long pause.

"Singing in the shower?" she asked herself, "When am I going to stop being a cliché on legs?" she asked herself.

Poison smiled, shook his head and grabbed the dirty laundry. Sometimes he scorned himself for just not being able to focus. He smiled as he came to a conclusion: at least this girl wasn't going to be boring.

The moment Sarah opened her eyes and remembered her surroundings, she shot up and got dressed. She didn't plan on being as mopey and unproductive as she had been in the last few weeks. She pulled on her clothes, brushed her hair and teeth, did her makeup (she carried it with her everywhere she went, safely tucked into her bra) and thought about her words carefully.

She basically read dictionaries in her leisure time, so it wasn't very hard for her to think of a perfect phrase. A perfect place to begin. She took her laser gun out of its compartment in her boot and spun it around. It spun fast and she stopped suddenly with a jerk of her hand, and then put it back in its place. Still just as sharp as she had been. And lastly, she put on her trademark shade of red lipstick. It was the thing that made her Crash Baby. And it was her well known signature among the Dracs. She always left her mark on them one way or another, and it was always the same shade of cherry red lipstick. She strode out of the bathroom with a bounce in her step and a glint of nervousness in her strange eyes.

She stood before the living room, and looked kindly at the sleeping Killjoys on the couch. She took a deep breath. She woke up Poison first, and advised him to do the same for the rest of them. And when they were all awake, they stared at her, shocked and confused. Not that she could blame them; she hadn't shown her face for weeks. But she maintained her knowing facial expression. She cleared her throat. Nervous habit.

"Good morning, Killjoys. I, um... Aw, fuck," she murmured. She ran her fingers through her hair and closer her eyes.

"This is not going to be easy. Me and public speaking have never gone hand in hand," she frowned awkwardly staring at the ground, earning vague smiles.

"But...I wanted to apologize for being such a...reclusive little **freak**. I didn't mean to be...well, how I turned out to be, over the past few weeks. I should have been more open with you but instead I shut you all out. That," she sighed, "was downright bratty of me. And I shut out the only people who could help me. That was a stupid little funk I was in, and I'm sorry you guys had to bear through it. But then again, I must thank you for the same reason; very few people would have had so much patience with me," she confessed, eyeing Poison, who dismissed it with a little wave of his hand and blushed, "you guys are amazing. Now with that said," she smiled hesitantly, each of the Killjoys studying her, "I'd like to ask for a second chance. I feel as though we started off on the wrong foot."

She held her head high and spoke, her words clearer then crystal.

"Allow me to introduce myself a bit.  
My name is Sarah Odette Heller, more widely known as Crash Baby. I live to take down the Better Living freaks. And now I have an even better reason to continue than ever:…to avenge my big sister, Bea...Lady Leach to you guys. Because she was ghosted by them. On a lighter note," she blushed, "My favorite things are my Bedazzled laser gun, my red lipstick, and this leather jacket," she smiled, gesturing at what she was wearing.

"I hope you will accept me here. You seem like the best people I could have ever ended up in the hands of. Now," she grinned, "who is in the mood for pancakes?"

"Me me me me!" Ghoul beamed, breaking the hesitance that had flooded the room. Crash smiled.

"Chocolate or bandanna-nut?" she asked. Kobra piped up.

"Do we even have those things..?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Nope. But I do," Crash chirped.

"How the _hell _did you manage to get your hands on that?" Jet asked, smiling and full of disbelief.

"BL/ind goons have got a pretty nice pantry," she explained, "You should really try going there some time. It's like Stop & Shop, just a bit more complex and risky."

Jet shook his head.

"You broke into the BL/ind food pantry?"

She smirked.

"Mmmhmmm. Though, I do prefer to use the word 'visited'."

Jet raised an eyebrow and whistled and as everyone roared with laughter, Crash let out a bow. She smiled kindly at them.

"You still haven't answered my question. Chocolate chip or banana-nut?"

They all replied at once:

"Chocolate chip!"

The exchanged glances at one another, shocked at their unplanned unison. Crash started laughing, and it wasn't long before the rest of them were as well.

"Well, that settles that!" she grinned, "Chocolate chip it is!"

Crash watched with fleeting joy as the Killjoys devoured her pancakes whole. She could have sworn that Ghoul had even glanced at her in wonder at one point.

"You guys like 'em?" she asked innocently.

Poison smiled at her, a Chocolate smear on the side of his mouth.

"Are you kidding? This is the first decent meal we've eaten in..." he trailed off, his eyebrows shooting together. Kobra rolled his eyes and finished his big brother's statement.

"...An extremely long time. So long that even he can't remember," he smiled and pushed his blonde hair back. She arched an eyebrow.

"Just decent?" she asked. Poison's eyebrows shot up immediately.

"Did I say **decent**? I meant delicious." he smiled slyly. Crash rolled her eyes.

"That better have been what you meant or I'll sic my flying monkeys on you," she smiled wickedly. Poison smiled wryly.

"What flying monkeys you kook?" he asked

"The ones you can't see!" she replied with a grin. Poison had to bit his lip in order to not burst out laughing.

"And why can't I see them?" he asked, pretending to play along.

"Because they don't like you!" she snapped playfully. And that was the final straw. They all burst out laughing.

"So heed my warning," Crash Baby said, panting, a huge smile on her face, "Never insult my cooking."

Fun Ghoul was lying down on the couch when Crash Baby walked in. She appeared to be frazzled.

"What's wrong Baby?" he teased. She shot him a playful glare.

"It's either my full name or Crash. Call me Baby ever again and you WILL regret it dearly."

He stuck his tongue out at her and tried again.

"Alright then. What's wrong Crash?" he asked, concerned at her unusual silence. She had come close to all of them in the course of a week, and by this time he knew this was not typical behavior for her.

"Ghoul... I was thinking about it...what was life like before the bomb? I can't remember much."

**A/N And another infamous cliffhanger! And you guys are probably hating me for it right now! But don't worry: I'm in the middle of writing the next chapter right now...But the only way you guys will **_**ever **_**get to read it is if you review! Yup, still bribing you guys and it seems to be working pretty well. And let me tell you…the next chapter is awesome. SO BRING ON THE REVIEWS!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N I've noticed you guys are not following my advice in sending me reviews. Really? I write the story and I decide when it's time to post it…I PLAY GOD FOR THIS FIC!…I advise you send me reviews! **

**Alright, so I decided to try something new: My/Crash Baby's POV. It's so weird to write about myself: you really should try it sometime. But this is really a test run, and if it crashes (pun intended) I won't care so much: 3rd person is my trademark style anyway.**

**One thing is I'm a little nervous about this chapter because it has some **_**touchy **_**stuff in it, as well as the fact that I'm giving my take on it. You'll get what I mean as you read on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own My Chem…nor have I ever claimed to in the first place…**

I held my breath. This was a topic I had never talked about much with...Bea. Because no matter how close we were, the topic was taboo. Ghoul paused and glanced up at me from his magazine, entitled "Destruction". Figured that that should be what he was reading. Figured that should be what was keeping him _quiet_.

"Life before the bomb?" he asked, as though he hadn't heard me. He arched an eyebrow. I nodded with hesitation.

"Well kiddo, you were born into a fucked up time frame. Into a period full of all kinds of disasters packed into it. Hurricanes, tsunamis, tornados, earthquakes: the works. Not to mention a president who had the mental capacity of a 9 year old. We were in the middle of a pointless war, and nowhere close to ending it. He got us into it but had no idea how to get us out," he sighed. I squeaked.

"His name was George W. Bush wasn't it?" I asked. Ghoul nodded.

"A bumbling buffoon. Of course we had a president afterwards, as well as on our way into the next election."

I frowned.

"Ghoul, I don't honestly care much for politics. Could you please just tell me what the world was like before it all?" I asked, though there was a sharp edge in my voice I had not used intentionally,"Please?" I added softly, my voice like a child's. I hadn't known myself capable of using such a voice. Something to keep in mind for when I needed it.

He sighed and gave me puppy dog eyes.

"The world, from what I can recall, was like one big beautiful mouse trap," he said sadly but simply. I cocked my head in confusion.

"Whattdya mean?" I inquired. He smirked.

"The world was on its way to creating groundbreaking new technology, buildings. Hell, even the plastic surgery seemed to be getting better. But we were paranoid as fucking hell. The terrorist attack of '01 left everyone in a tizzy. From that point on we made a pastime of pointing our stubby fingers at any person at all and accusing them of being terrorists. We were setting ourselves up for a bad fall."

It was my turn to arch an eyebrow.

"And the fall began with the bomb?" I asked.

He nodded solemnly.

"The bomb, the bomb," he crooned, "How can I forget the moment the nuclear bomb went off? I was with these guys," he nodded to the separate rooms in which the other killjoys resided, "right here, in this room. The waves couldn't hit us down here. This had been Bob's place...before they got to him. They got to him and he was never the Bob we knew again. He was just Better Living Industries zombie. But anyway," he faltered, "after that bomb people sought any kind of help they could find. We were all vulnerable; we had all lost someone to the explosion. And immediately the BL/ind people popped up, offering supplements that to rid them of their pain," he shook his head.

"Doesn't seem like a coincidence does it?" I asked, feeling blank. It was hard to discuss something like this when you couldn't remember much of it yourself. Ghoul shook his head.

"No, it doesn't. And unfortunately people being in the state they were in didn't think twice about it."

Thoughts swirled through my mind relentlessly.

"But why...?" I asked, my voice lingering in the suddenly still air. Ghoul shrugged.

"I don't know. I've thought about it myself many times and I could never think of anything that completely fit. I just know that this shit happened, and that we lost one of our best friends to it. And the people who survived it and haven't into the BL/ind assholes are heartbroken and in hiding. And some even try to fight them like us," he said, pursing his lips, "but getting back to your point: I think it was lust for power. That's the only logical thing I can think of."

I thought this over carefully. It _**was**_ the only logical think I could think of as well. But it just didn't seem to fit...

"But does it have to be logical?" I asked, interrupting Ghoul's reading once again. He cocked his head and seemed to ponder my question.

"Suppose not. But then there would be no true way of knowing what was going through their heads...hell, what still is, if there is anything _at all_," he said harshly.

I shook my head. While the logic department was lacking, the possibilities in the illogical seemed endless. Did logic even matter? Because here it seemed to go right out the window. And the only thing that seemed to matter much was the outcome. What was logic anyway? Was it just a mere boundary to which we are trained to think in? All these questions were making me dizzy, and I plopped down on the couch next to Ghoul weakly. He smiled wryly.

"Mind fuck?" he asked. I nodded.

"I hear ya. The possibilities seem endless if you stop and think about it."

I rolled my eyes weakly.

"Ya don't say," I murmured. I made it only too obvious that all this had screwed with my head. Ghoul put down his magazine and sat up straight next to me, and patted me on the back. I breathed slowly.

"You never really get used to it, but you learn to stop questioning it altogether. All that really matters is where we're at now. That's what we really have to deal with," he explained gently. I found it truly incredible this was the same man who squealed at the thought of chocolate chip pancakes. But at the moment I knew needed to stay on topic.

"And how long does that adjustment usually take?" I asked. He draped his arm around me and gave me a little hug type thing.

"Could be a while kiddo. But you do get used to it," he hugged me. I decided to forget the weird side hug and hug him the normal way.

"Thanks Ghoul. It's nice to know I'm not _completely _crazy," I smiled.

"No worries little sis; If you ever need anyone to assure you don't belong in a straight jacket you know you can come to me or the rest of the guys. We all think on the same lines, we Killjoys. To the point it's a _little_ creepy," he shrugged, scratching his head. I playfully flicked his head.

"Have I ever told you I'm thoroughly convinced you have Dissociative Identity Disorder?" I asked smirking. He just cocked his head.

"Care to clarify, mini genius?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes: I didn't much like compliments. Especially ones that didn't hold particularly true to me.

"Multiple personalities. Every morning you wake me up and beg me to make you friggin' pancakes and then there **this** side of you. Is there another personality in there named Suzy too? Seriously, you're just so unpredictable it almost seems impossible you wouldn't!" I laughed. He smiled with me.

"Nope, that's all normal for me doll. Tomorrow I could be running around in drag calling myself Suzy but still be me. And be me in a considerably normal state," he smiled smugly.

"And you know what? I couldn't love you any other way," I said honestly with a smile.

"Flattery will get you nowhere little sis!" he teased and I playfully punched his arm. He winced.

"Aw, please don't try to kill me!" he cried

"Wimp," I muttered. Before I knew it I was sprawled on the couch, kicking my legs furious being tickled. I was laughing hysterically.

"No no no no no! STOP IT!" I was practically screaming. Ghoul himself was turning red and laughing hysterically as well, but he had made it clear he didn't plan on giving up so easily.

The others were running into the room right after they heard me shouting at Ghoul. For a moment they simply observed the situation at hand before joining Ghoul in tickling me.

"**DAMN TRAITORS!**" I yelled at them in between fits of laughter. Tears were beginning to stream down my eyes. That was something I had never laughed hard enough to experience before. I tried to push against them but I couldn't: they were too damn strong! I was losing any air in my lungs and trying to catch my breath desperately. I could feel my face turning red! I closed my eyes and let the laughter flow out of me as it may. What was point in fighting it? I grabbed Kobra's hand and pulled him down next to me. Jet, Poison and Ghoul exchanged glances again, and I had a moment to catch my breath. And Kobra had a look on his face that clearly said _"Oh shit"_ and he turned to me and gave me a look that can only be described as a _"you owe me"_ glare. I stuck my tongue out at him and smiled.

"You're going down with me bud. Deal with it," I muttered breathlessly, making him struggle to keep up the pissy facade.

And in that same second they were at me again. It was quite some time before they fell to the floor laughing.

"Have I ever told you guys that you are crazy?" I asked, my face probably as red as my lipstick.

Jet smiled.

"Only a couple hundred times a day, why?"

I grinned.

"Because I've never been so happy to be surrounded by insanity," I said.

The silence closed in on all of us like an envelope. I cursed myself for saying anything. Poison was the first to say something.

"You know what Crash?" he asked.

"What?" I responded, trying not to sound nervous.

"I love you, you little kook. We're just as happy to have you here as you to have us," he said tenderly.

I bit my lip hard and tried to hold down the lump forming in my throat. Tears were in my eyes, and I didn't plan on letting them spill.

"Damn you Poison! You know I'm emotionally fragile right now!" I mumbled jokingly in an unstable voice, but still trying to make it clear I wasn't sad. Within seconds he had me in a bear hug. I let the tears spill and I smiled: so _this _was what it felt like to be safe. Never felt safe in my entire life and here I was with a gang of rogue artists who could have passed as a motorcycle gang_. I really need to find some sort of normalcy_. The other Killjoys left the room quietly, and I let myself feel slightly more relaxed.

"Hey Poison?" I squeaked after a few minutes.

"Mmhmm?"

"What's going to happen out there?" I asked. It was something that had been nibbling at my thoughts.

"We're going to fight for what we believe in and hope we kick ass," he said simply.

"Yeah, um, in order to kick ass I need to know how to fight..." I murmured.

"Are you alluding to something?" he asked smugly.

"Yeah...I need help in the ass kicking department."

**A/N and so it is that I conclude this awesome chapter. Or at least I thought it was awesome. In order to know if it was, I need feedback. Do you see where I'm going with this? Yup, reviews again. **

**But tell me: what did you think of my explanation of how 2019 got the way it was? Anyone out of character? Because if there was I can correct that in the next chapter. Suggestions? Want to maybe be in this fic later on? (Got it planned out for the most part and there will be opportunities to get in on the action).**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I AM SO SORRY I HAVE TAKEN SO LONG! I haven't had the spare time to edit all of this over and post it since the last chapter. Since then I've taken midterms, and had to focus on school. Now that it's break once again I've got time. **

**Alright my darling Killjoys, this chapter is another experiment I've cooked up. I tried to mix reality with this future that MCR created. I kind of have blurred the line a bit, and I'm not sure if I like it or not, but I have written 2 more chapters in accordance to it. I don't know, I think I like it. So, remember to tell me what you think on that, it's kind of important. Whether it's by review or message, I just need some opinions. But buckle your seat belts my dears! It's going to be a bumpy ride!**

My fist made solid contact with the leather punching bag. _BANG_. I shifted my weight and my other fist hit it from the side. It left the thing spinning wildly and it came back at me full speed. I ducked, squatting with my hands steadying the grounded and missed it by a millisecond. Poison clapped.

"You're getting there!" he encouraged.

I smiled and threw my strongest punch yet at the punching bag, which had been painted over to appear like a Drac. It was really impressive when you stopped to look at it: a mad amount of effort had gone into it, and it was noticeable.

I smiled as my other fist hit what would have been a Drac's jaw.

"You've really got a strong hate for them don't you?" he asked me, bemused. I smirked.

"I am here, aren't I?" I asked just before giving my stuffed Drac friend a mediocre kick in the side. Poison smiled and ran his fingers through his fire-hydrant red hair.

"Point taken."

"You know," I said, panting and punching the shit out of the Drac decoy, "To take over the world and make an attempt to control people is bad enough...but to strip away their individuality...," I gave the Drac a furious punch, and I dogged its comeback, "that's a big no-no to me," I said harshly, my smile tainted with disgust. Individuality was something I'd always valued highly.

"Keep your head Crash. Focus," Poison cooed, obviously worried.

"Right. Focus," I repeated determinedly, my eyes glued on the stupid black and white blob. I always had a hard time focusing in here. Too many thoughts coming at me at once, all revolving around the Dracs and the BL/ind. I gave it another decent kick with the opposite leg. The chains rattled. FOCUS. No chains. No anger. Just a punching bag._** Focus**_. I closed my eyes for a split second and instinctively dodged the punching bag. **Focus**.

My fist slammed into the punching bag and the other beat it down as well. The chains were rattling like crazy, and I only stopped once I was losing breath. Sweat drenched my forehead and I glared at the damned punching bag. Poison smiled wide as he approached me.

"You are going up on the ass kicking meter! Now just imagine what you could do if you were able to focus like that all the time!" he said as he wrapped me into a hug. I questioned how he could so effortlessly since I was sticky with perspiration, and most likely reeked from it.

He had become sort of a guardian to me. He was not nor father or brother really; he was somewhere in the middle. Not to say that the other Killjoys weren't amazing to me, but they were purely like big brothers.

He kissed my forehead, something I was still growing used to.

"Now," he murmured, "I think it's safe to say that we can begin in target practice, now that you seem to be on your way with the most classic form of defense." he patted me on the back and lead me to a large room I had never been in before. Sheets of paper were clipped to what almost looked like a laundry line, only straight forward.

"Alright," Poison began, "shoot at the target the best you can. I want to see how much you already know," he said, folding his arms over his chest.

I fired my laser gun at the paper bull's-eye, and hit the outer rim, while another shot hit the wall. _**Shit, I didn't think I was that bad!**_

"We've got some work to do," he said patiently, rubbing his neck.

I groaned.

The alarm next to my bed went off. It was as obnoxious as usual. I had taken to the room I had hid in, way back when. I put on my slippers and went to the bathroom. I mentally went through my daily checklist:

•Shower and get dressed  
•wake up the guys.  
•make breakfast.  
•throw some punches at punching bag.  
•lunch  
•Shooting practice with Poison.  
•Dinner.

It hadn't been my idea to put practices every other meal, it had been Poison's. According to him, if I wanted to be stronger I should eat between practices so I can get the calories I needed. I trusted he was right and that it would help me get higher on the kick-ass meter.

Turning on the water for my shower, I thanked whatever God may exist for letting me be here. It was the best place I'd ever been, with the best possible people. Yes, it had come at a high price, one that I wish hadn't had to pay, but I was incredibly happy with the outcome.

I stepped out of the shower and looked at the girl in the mirror: She had medium, wavy dark chocolate colored hair that stopped at her shoulders, bangs covered the right side of her face. She had doe eyes that were hypnotic if you stared right into them. Full rose tinted lips, untouched by scarlet lipstick. Pale skin, something that had once warranted teasing, that now had hues of pink; something that had never been there before.

_Funny _I thought, _she looks just like me_. I was always brimming with sarcasm on the topic of my appearance. Like most people it wasn't an aspect of myself I was entirely comfortable with but was more or less stuck with. It wasn't relevant to who I was, but time seemed to be making me more and more accepting of it.

I tied a towel around my short, hour glass figure. I'd never felt all too comfortable with that either: Bea had had a petite figure, and had been small and fragile looking. It had always made me feel strange to be younger and have a fuller figure than her. I was beginning to become more comfortable with it since...this is sick but...since Bea was gone. I no longer had anyone to physically compare myself to.

I ran a comb through my hair, vanquishing what few tangles were left in my hair. It's funny; you'd think living with men would be awkward when I was used to having just Bea, but it was shockingly comfortable. I pushed what I knew to be Jet's razor blade away from the sink as well as put the shaving cream in its proper place in the cabinet. They were my best friends. My family. My _dysfunctional _but _lovable_ family.

I smiled and sang to myself quietly, as I habitually had the tendency to do when alone and in thought.

"Gravity don't mean too much to me... I'm who I've got to be, these pigs are after me, after you. Run away, like it was yesterday, and we could run, if we could run away, run away, run away from HERE!"

I was smiling now. My voice was soprano and somehow managed to work the pitches of the song in my head.

"I got a bulletproof heart. You got a hollow point smile. Me and your runaway scars, got a photograph dream on the getaway mile. Lets blow a hole In this town! And do our talking with a laser beam. Gunning out of this place in a bullets embrace then we'll do it again," I sang blissfully. I brushed my hair so that it was smoothed down. _it could use a trim sometime.  
_  
"How can they say 'Jenny could you come back home?' because everybody knows you don't ever wanna to come back. Let me be the one to save you!" I sang, my voice rising high. I was thumping my foot and my hair was beginning to shake with me.

_Alright Sarah, get dressed, __**then**__ jam out, okay? Because jamming out in your birthday suit is borderline insane._

I put on my undergarments and pulled my black and neon pink striped tank top over my head. It fit as snugly as it had when I'd first gotten my hands on it. It flattered my curves and had made me feel all the more strange next to Bea. Next came my translucent black tights. Next I slipped on my fluffy hot pink skirt and lastly my leather jacket. My shoes would have to wait.

I took in a deep breath.

"Gravity don't mean too much to me! I'm who I've got to be! These pigs are after me, after you! Run away, like it was yesterday, when we could run away, when we could run, away run away from here!"

I pulled my makeup bag from my jacket pocket: it was lightweight but managed to have every bright color you could ever dream of packed into it in some shape or form.

I pulled out a skin toned eye shadow and brushed some onto my eyelids. It had a luminous effect that was hard to describe. I added some matte brown into the mix, only on the end half of my eye lids and blended then together at the center. Overall all it gave me the illusion of having **giant** eyes. I mean, not that they aren't already abnormally big eyes, but this was a whole new level. I put on a little liquid eyeliner and mascara, and finally my red lipstick.

My hair...it never knew what it wanted to be. Curly or wavy, it could never choose a definite rank. I decided to just let it air dry. I didn't care much for tending to it today. So I just Gather it in my hands and threw it behind me, and it smacked my neck.

"I'm shooting outta this room, because I shouldn't like the company," I continued onward with my singing while walking out of the bathroom, "well stop your preaching right there, cause I really don't care and I'll do it again. So get me outta my head! Cause its getting kind of cramped you know! Coming, ready or not, when the motor gets hot we can do it again! The papers say - holy fuck, what the HELL are you doing awake?" I hissed at Kobra, who smirked as he drank a cup of coffee, as though he was completely oblivious to my shock.

"So that's what the papers say is it? _'Holy Fuck What the Hell Are You Doing Awake'_?" he asked smugly, sipped his coffee while my face turned ridiculously red. Once he noticed this and the silence he continued to speak in a matter-of-factly, "the sky is blue" tone.

"You should really take up singing, you do it surprisingly well," he said, "and if you have questions or need any help you can go to Gerard."

I stood there silently.

"Who the bloody fucking hell is Gerard Kobra? Your imaginary friend?" I asked. I knew I was getting borderline snappy with him, but I wasn't in the mood to play mind games.

He smirked at me, as though he found this situation all too amusing.

"Sweetheart, you can't honestly think 'Kobra Kid,' 'Party Poison,' 'Jet Star,' and 'Fun Ghoul' are our birth names. If our parents had wanted to give us really fucked up names they would have named us stuff like 'Eugene' or 'Phineas'. Anything that could pass for British really," he smirked that stupid smirk of his.

I stared at him like the idiot I was, not being able to conjure up actual words or phrases that made sense.

"Than what are your names? I mean, your real ones?" I asked dumbly, yet innocently. He motioned for me to sit next to him on the couch. He now seemed to realize just how much of a blow this was to me.

I sat down with some hesitance. I still wasn't that close to Kobra. Couldn't place a reason for it, but that was just the way it was. Without warning his extended his hand toward me.

"My name is Mikey. It's a pleasure to meet you ma'am," he smiled. I stared at him for a second before grasping his hand and shaking it, smiling.

"Mikey huh?" I asked, mulling it over. _MIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEYMIKEY__MIKEY__. NOT KOBRA. MIKEY. HOLY SHIT THIS IS MIKEYMIKEYMIKEY.  
_  
"I like it."

**A/N So, what do you think of my little twist here? Blurring reality and fiction a bit too much or is it good? Basically, am I in over my head? Mikey out of character at all? Honestly, I get everyone else's personality clearly and try to portray them just as they seem, but I had to guess with Mikey, because as I mentioned in there somewhere, he isn't exactly all that clear to me. Think Crash just got more than she bargained for? **_**Tell me! **_**I want to know!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Hello, fellow zone runners! I know my last update was only a few days ago, but I figured this is my last day of freedom, school starts again tomorrow, and since you guys loved the last chapter I'd give you a short but important chapter I thought I'd put off until next weekend. As I mentioned, it's extremely short; barely over 2 pages, but important. Can't emphasize that enough! **

**So, since you guys liked my little fiction and reality bending thing from last chapter, I figured I'd go on with another important aspect of that plot. **

Kobra - Mikey, smiled at my reaction to his introduction.

"I would introduce myself, but it seems I already did a while ago," I offered, shrugging my shoulders dismissively. He shook his head and gave me a gentle hug. It must have been excruciatingly obvious just how boggled my mind was. Just how shaken I truly was.

"Doesn't matter, you little monkey. You don't have to 'give' anything back," he assured me.

I smiled.

"Did you just call me a 'little monkey'?" I asked, trying to make this seem a little less touchy and soap opera-y.

"Yup, and you better like it," he said solidly.

I laughed quietly.

"Well, you still haven't told me who Gerard is, Kobra Child," I said, ever so slightly daunting.

"Never call me by that name again or you will regret it kid," he teased, though his cheeks were turning slightly pink, "But it's not up to me to tell you really. It's up to them to tell you their names," He explained.

I could feel myself getting defensive now.

"Hey, whoa, no! Hold it right there Kobra Child! You're the one who let the name slip in the first place. Now spill!" I commanded impatiently.

He glared at me playfully and I lightened up ever so slightly.

"I told you not to call me that name!" he grinned evil. _**Shit**_. I know that look. I know what it means.

I was soon on the ground laughing hysterically and trying to defend myself.

"Not fair! That is foul play!" I shouted, out of breath. He continued to tickle me mercilessly.

"Please," I pleaded with big puppy dog eyes. He stopped_. Damn, I have a bigger advantage than I originally thought._

"I'm serious though, Crash. I don't know if they want to share their real names with you or not," he said soberly, "it's part of the past, and I don't know if they want it brought up."

I breathed, knowing my face was flushed from laughing.

"Okay. Don't expect me to be chipper though," I said flatly. He stood up and outstretched his and I gratefully took it and he helped me up.

"Thanks," I murmured. He waved his hand dismissively. Suddenly he looked me dead in the eye, catching me off guard.

"Crash… please don't tell them you got it from me…" he murmured. I stared at him as though to urge him forward.

"What? Why…?" I asked. He only watched me with a blank expression, leaving me to wonder. And as simple as that he walked away, as though the whole exchange never happened.

_Damn it. I hate vagueness._

**A/N Voila! As I said, small but crucial. So what do you think? Should Kobra have told Crash (…me…) what she wanted to know? Is he right in saying it's not for him to tell her? What do you think is going on with the killjoys? How is Crash going to figure out the charade? Why am I asking you all these questions? **


	9. UPDATE

I'm so sorry guys! My computer has been down for a while now, and at the moment I have managed to snag a school computer! The internet on my home computer is down so that means: I can't send myself the story from my iPod and do correcting on MW and then put it up. No worries though, it's not like I've given up: I've written quite a few chapters since. It's just a matter of how the _hell _I'm going to manage to get them up. My phone will log me on, but won't let me do much else. I've even tried to find a way to edit my profile to let you guys know what was up. But don't worry: this story is not dusted. Peace out, five minutes left of my class period. Keep running, and keep it ugly.


	10. Chapter 9 Did you miss me!

**A/N hello my darling runaways! I'M SO SORRY! It's taken me so long to post this because, as I mentioned in my random update, I did not have a working computer. There wasn't a single way I could post anything for a long time. Anywho, I just got a Mac for my 16th birthday, and this thing has a program similar to Microsoft Word. It's close enough for me: all I need is autocorrect, bold, italics and underline and I'm all set. I've got a bundle of chapters I've written ahead, and because I owe all of you, my dedicated readers, I'll post them as often as I can this week. I hope I haven't lost all of you because of this wait :( I swear I've been working hard to keep this story alive. REVIEW MY PRETTIES, REVIEW! I want to know I've still got you by my side on this.**

**Disclaimer: as much as I wish I had gotten MCR as a birthday present, i didn't. You know the deal: I don't own jack shit.**

The next few days were a blur. A big fat blur filled with confusion, and a blank mind. The whole secret-real-names-and-not-completely-understanding-why-they're-so-secret thing had gotten to my head enough that it was one of the main things I thought about. The names _Gerard_ and _Mikey_ floated through my brain like mist over a placid lake.

After my conversation with Ko-...Mikey, I found that we shared a closer bond than we had before. There wasn't as much tension and we were getting along better than you might think. We chatted on a daily basis, and often went into laughing fits. But that was mostly me, since he and the rest of the killjoys had a tendency to randomly tickle me. Ha. Call me Tickle-Me-Sarah, why don't you? I don't think Elmo would mind. It's not plagiarism if the franchise has been annihilated, right?

Trying to think of ways to approach the guys with the question of their names...it's a lot harder than you'd imagine. You've got to figure out the right place and the right time. And what I figured out was that they all had to be alone, and in a quiet environment. And let me tell you, that wasn't easy since we live in a small underground apartment. The only place you could truly achieve peace was in the bathroom. No joke.

Today is relatively quiet, and most of the guys have gone out to meet someone named Dr. D. Could very well be the man who goes by the codename _"Doctor Deathdefying."_ I've heard his name before, but I never thought that they had direct contact with him. What a wonder my boys are.

But Jet was sitting by himself on the couch reading a magazine on the mechanics of their Trans Am. These guys and their thing with magazines, I'm telling ya. And I'm the teenage girl in this equation, not them. If there was anyone with a right to magazines, it was me.

I gulped. This was the perfect time.

_Shiiiiiiiit, I don't want to do this, I don't know how he's going to react. _

But before I knew it, I had forced myself to walk. My conscience is screaming. And I'm as silent as a mouse.

Jet turns around and notices me.

"Hey Crash," he greeted, sounding surprised to see me. Now I knew for sure there would be no turning back.

"Hey Jet!" I smiled, the gesture obviously forced. Kobra had made this seem like a horrible thing to ask of them, but I felt like I had to know. I hated myself for that last bit because of how selfish it was.

"What are you doing here, I thought you'd be going with them to see Dr. D?" he asked me with a small smile, apparently glad to see me despite the shock.

I ran my fingers through my hair awkwardly, my fingerless gloves catching slightly. _I could use a haircut_, my conscience squeaked in an undertone, while the main thing flashing through my mind was the question of how to bring up the topic of names.

"Same…I mean, I didn't expect you to be here either. They told me to stay behind though, because they figured it could be risky...though I don't know why they'd be worried if I've been doing all this self defense training..." I drifted. He motioned for me to sit with him, a smile on his face.

"They're just protective of you, that's all. It has nothing to do with how capable they think you are of fighting Dracs off. We like knowing you're safe," he explained warmly. I shrugged.

"I guess. I wouldn't mind going above ground though. I don't mean to sound ungrateful-," I said with my hands up,

"-You just would like some fresh air," he nodded smiling, his Afro bouncing, "Understandable."

"Exactly," I grinned, the nervousness losing some of its edge. He at least understood my mindset. He messed up my hair playfully, making me feel like a child.

"Don't worry; you'll get out of here sometime. We're not going to hold you prisoner forever."

I smiled and rolled my eyes.

"I'd hope not!" I laughed, though it sounded slightly stiff, the question at hand still top priority in my mind.

"What's bugging ya, mini killjoy?" he asked with a slight smile and eyes full of concern. _Shit._ _Am I that easy to read?_ I rubbed my neck, suddenly becoming fidgety.

"It's nothing really...," I murmured. This was _not_ how I had planned this conversation to go. He cocked his head and me and gave me a look that was clearly disbelieving.

"Something is bothering you, Crash, and I'm not going to ignore it," he said firmly.

I sighed and my face fell into my awaiting hands in my lap.

"Why oh _whhhy_ do you have to see right through me and be such a good person about it?" I grumbled.

"Hate to tell you little sis, but you haven't got a very good pokerface. You might as well write 'I am miserable' on your forehead. And it's called having morals. Doesn't necessarily make me a good person," he said, trying to dismiss the compliment, "Now, spit it out."

I let my shoulders slump, and I mumbled into my hands.

"I was thinking about the days before the bomb... And I had to wonder...what is your name?" I squeaked, expecting this to crash and burn. Just as my name implied.

"Jet Star," he said automatically, his face slightly blanched. His expression was nearly blank, and the remaining emotion was pained. I shook my head and closed my eyes.

"Jet...please no games...it's just a question that boggled my mind," I said, my face turning pink and tears welling up in my eyes. As much I tried to blink them away, they wouldn't leave. I let my hair fall over my face. I heard Jet sigh.

"Why would such a little, unimportant thing like that bother you?" he asked. He sounded agitated and a bit sad.

"I don't know Jet..!...I just was wondering about it..." I tried to explain. But how could you ever explain something so internal with mere words? I didn't plan on betraying Kobra, despite how much easier it would make this situation.

"But what does it matter Crash? Even if I told you my name, nothing would change," he said. He sounded hurt. My mind raced, trying to grasp the fact that this was going down in flames. _No, no, no! I can't be hurting him!_ _Jet, please don't do this to me!_

"Jet...It's just something that's been eating away at me. Please, **please**, don't take it to heart," I murmured. I was pleading him now as I braced myself for the rush of oncoming sorrow.

"I would take it to heart if you even thought of calling me anything but 'Jet Star'," he said. The damn tears were brimming in my eyes.

"Why can't you tell me?" I asked, my voice only a mere wisp of wind.

"It doesn't matter Crash! A name is only a word! And I don't even use it anymore!" he said defensively. He sounded like someone who was being accused of a murder they hadn't committed, and it scared me to the bone: I'd never seen him like this. Ever.

I didn't say anything for a long time. What I was thinking wasn't meant to be spoken. But I said it anyway.

"Jet...how can I ever feel like I truly know who you are if I don't even know your name?" I asked quietly. He was stunned into silence.

"A name is just a word though..." he said weakly, "does it really mean that much to you Crash?" he asked. I could see the defeat on his face, and felt like hugging him, but I knew that would seem wrong at this very moment.

"Yes...," I said. He shook his head.

"Alright then...it's Ray. Ray Toro," he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "or at least it _was_ anyway."

I hugged him, deciding the timing was right, and the shock of the foreign word still fogging my brain.

"Ray! I love it! You can be my little Ray Of Sunshine!" I squealed and he laughed.

It was at that moment though that I realized however, that if I really wanted to persist in finding out their names, it was not going to be a piece of cake.

**A/N oh man, Crash has no idea. Wait…I have no idea. What the fuck? I'm me but I'm not me! I swear, this whole "writing-yourself-into-one-of-the-characters-to-your-own-story" thing is very, very, mind-blowing at times. Honestly, this is one of the reasons I don't need drugs: I've got this to screw with my head already. So what do you think, my little victims of futuristic circumstance? Is Crash begging for trouble? Is what she's doing selfish? Is there going to be something to stop her from learning the truth about the killjoys? Does she need to stop butting into people's biz and just live life in the present? Or is she right in questioning the past? REVIEW! I WANT FEEDBACK AND WANT TO KNOW IF YOU GUYS ARE STILL WITH ME HERE! :O**


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N HOLA ME 'LIL AMIGOS! Crash Baby here, and I have been editing this chapter for FOREVER. I'm Sorry it took so long, but I uploaded it intending to edit it, but somehow ended up rewriting it. What you're re about to read is the way my very best and damn near professional writing sounds. When my writing isn't crammed in a small space of time and I have the chance to really think deeply about what I'm writing, this is what tends to be the outcome. But guess what…LAST WEEKEND I WENT TO MY FIRST EVER CONCERT AND IT WAS MCR! I SWEAR TO GOD IT WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Since then my muse really sparked up again, and viola! Another chapter has been born! Anyway, this chapter is a real rollercoaster, so buckle your seatbelt! It's gonna be a bumpy ride!**

**Disclaimer: as much as I whine and plead *whispering* I don't own My Chem.**

**ENJOY!**

I flicked my bangs from my eyes. That haircut I had wanted had worked out in the end, and my locks were shorter than before, but still long enough that they reached my chest. I had wisps of hair dangling over my eyes, which were, by the way, focused on the punching bag in front of me. Little beads of sweat formed on my hairline and around my neck. With every swipe at the weighed down bag I became increasingly strong. My strength had heightened dramatically since my introduction to the gym, and my hunger to physically be as capable as I was mentally was being fulfilled, leaving satisfaction (and soreness) in its stead.

My friendship with Ray/Jet had tightened despite all odds. I'd thought he would resent me because of my persistence during out little _chat._ But the fact of the matter was that we were a bit closer because of that one bit of knowledge we now shared. There were moments of tension and slight friction as we were reminded of what it had taken for us to gain that common ground, but at the end of the day, we were friends, constantly having deep discussions about the morality of the world around us, and debating what could have been.

My ponytail swished, and some of my hair hit me in the face and even ended up in my mouth. Another punch. I thought of Bea and her old sassy aura. The Dracs, and their emotionless masks. The punching bag swung feebly as my fist just barely made contact with it. Bea, with her dirty blonde hair and amber eyes. Her spidery eyelashes, angular face and seemingly fragile figure. I swiped at the Drac decoy desperately. I couldn't hit it. I couldn't focus if my life depended on it. God, how I was letting Bea down.

My back slid down the nearest wall, and I cupped my face in my hands. _I can't do it. I can't keep up the charade. I'm no warrior, I couldn't take down anyone for my life, let alone people like the BL/ind who I have history with. _Tears welled up in my eyes as I chastised myself. _I can't. I'm fucking weak._

Tears fell down my cheeks uncharacteristically, and I hated myself during every seconds of it. '_Weakling, weakling!'_ taunted the voice of my conscience. Normally I would have ignored them, but at that exact moment they were all that I could hear. What was the use in fighting it when they were right? I let the tears fall. No control, no pride, no dignity, and no sugarcoating. And in that moment of complete darkness, I questioned all that I had, and infect the only thing I had: my family. My killjoys.

Did I believe I actually belonged here? With people so brave, unlike me? How could I actually believe I belonged here? The questions came at me and found no end, and each of them I could not answer without trembling increasingly violently. I cried harder than ever: I was considering my validity among the only thing I had, and the only people in this world who I loved. And the more I thought about it, the more outrageous I seemed in this picture. Just a common house cat among white tigers.

Just when things were about to plummet to a whole new low, a voice spoke. I didn't even need to look up to know that voice.

"What's wrong Crash?" asked the voice, saddened at even knowing I was upset. When there was no reply, a pair of feet made their way to me. I sighed, and it rasped in my throat.

"Crash…what's eating at you?" Poison asked. His hand landed on my shoulder, and tears welled up in my eyes as I considered the idea of leaving him behind. Packing my bags and sneaking out in the middle of the night, and never risking a second glance. Never being able to look into his hazel eyes again and fear I'd disappoint him or let him down.

"It's nothing…," I whispered hoarsely, which visibly contradicted my statement, "I'm fine…"

I sounded insistent. Like I was trying to convince someone other than him.

**Myself.**

_Far, far away from here…where no one knows my name. Where I belong. Where I am of the same magnitude as the people around me. Where there are no heroes._

_Where I might as well be dead._

"Sure you are," he said sarcastically. He opened his arms to me, and welcomed me into a hesitant embrace.

It remained this way for a few minutes as I sniffled and tears mingled with hair that had since clung to my face. All the while Poison patiently stroked my hair, ready for whatever it was I threw at him. Even something like this.

"Crash, do you want to talk about it?" he asked, more than a little concerned.

I sighed. Did it make sense to try to explain something so complicated?

"I don't know…" I answered groggily as he ran his fingers through my matted hair, "it's kind of hard to explain," I concluded soberly.

"Hit me with your best shot."

"I…fuck…I…- Poison, do I really belong here?" I asked recklessly, my voice broken into shards. My question seemed to have caught him off guard, and stunned him into silence. He held me mutely and tears welled up in my eyes once again. Was that a "no"?

"Crash…," he sighed gruffly, rubbing my back, "why are you here?"

_Chicken shit. Where is he going with this?_

"In this room…?"

I forced my mind to recall the things I had long since packed away for safe keeping.

_"What's going to happen out there?" _

I let my mind grasp the memory, and it did so with additional bitterness.

_"We're going to fight for what we believe in and hope we kick ass,"_ he had smirked. The memory was slightly fuzzy in my brain.

_"Yeah, um, in order to kick ass I need to know how to fight…," _I had drawled like an idiot. And there it was: the prologue to my training.

"Well, because I wanted to be able to kick ass as well as you guys…," I croaked. _Because let's face it, I suck. _

He heard the broken note in my voice, and immediately seemed to correctly hunch at my thoughts.

"…So we could win the fight against BLI."

He frowned and refrained from straying the topic at hand.

"And what led you to that point?" he asked.

I searched through the filing cabinet in my brain.

_"Have I ever told you guys that you are crazy?"_ I'd asked, my face probably as bright as my lipstick.

Jet smiled.

_"Only a couple hundred times a day, why?" _

I'd grinned.

_"Because I've never been so happy to be surrounded by insanity,"_ I had smiled honestly.

The silence had closed in on all of us like an envelope as I hated myself for saying anything. Poison had been the first to say something.

_"You know what Crash?"_ he had asked me.

_"What?"_ I had responded, while trying not to sound on edge.

_"I love you, you little kook. We're just as happy to have you here as you to have us,"_ he'd cooed.

"When I was talking to you, you called me a little kook," I smiled slightly through my tears.

He arched an eyebrow.

"I believe there was more to it than that," he said.

_"I love you, you little kook. We're just as happy to have you here as you to have us."_

I nodded solemnly. He patted my back.

"And how'd you come to that?" he asked. I reached into the depths of my memory.

"Ghoul explained to me what happened to the world, because Bea never did..."

"And before that, way before that," he urged. I closed my eyes.

"I ended up with you guys, and freaked the fuck out," I said tearfully. _I'd had a bitch fit and pushed away the only people who could have understood me. 5 weeks of sneaking around in my own home and being an idiot._

"And where were you before that?" Poison asked. My eyes opened in a split second and I pulled away from Poison's embrace.

"You know this already! All of it!" I said incredulously. He closed his eyes and patted my back.

"Bear with me Crash. Where were you before you ended up with us?" he asked.

I looked up at him, a Zen and patient image. I imagined this is what the face of God looked like if he existed. I mean, if he existed, why would he let this happen to our world? But still, Poison was the face of something godly and optimal. Which is why it would have killed me to leave him like nothing else.

"I fought alongside Bea. We fought the Dracs and the BL/ind," I said plainly. He pulled me into a loose hug, and left me questioning what was happening here. What was I missing?

"You did the same as us. You fought the bad guys, and both of you were well known for it. Notorious," he said eyeing me, "Lad- Bea left you in our care because she knew that you belong with us," he said, rubbing my back. I shook my head, and my ponytail whipped against my neck. Tears of frustration and pent up secrecy burned in my eyes. _I hate this, I hate this._

"Bea - Lady Leach was the real hero. I was just her sidekick," I murmured. And in my heart I knew it was true. I'd only been an accessory, the perfect less than to my heroic older sister.

"No,no,no,no,no," he soothed, "you fought, you still did so because you knew it was right, while other people played along. You still do," he said, stroking my hair. I pressed my cheek to his chest, feeling safe and trapped at the same time: he saw right through me so much that is both scared and fascinated me

"Poison...when I see the damned punching bag I can't think straight...it's too much...," I said before slumping altogether. He brought his lips to my ear.

"No one talks about it - but that's normal," he whispered.

I let this confession sink in, but didn't let it go unnoticed. I pressed my cheek to his chest and shut my eyes for a second, trying to imagine my guys being overwhelmed at the thought at the Dracs/ BL/ind. It didn't seem possible, them being _vulnerable_. For me it was easily the norm, and I could **accept** that. Accept that at some moments I was weak, and open to fire. But these guys? Not a chance it hell. It just didn't seem like anything that could be possible. They were gun slinging, quirky and rebellious. They were the "we love you even if you are bizarre sometimes" family I'd always wanted, and could just as quickly fire their guns at you as they could flip a switch. So to hear they could be just as vulnerable as me, the weird, emotionally unstable girl with a thing about abandonment? That's about the biggest bombshell you could have thrown at me.

He rubbed my back as the occasional tear slipped.

"How do you know?" I asked. He shrugged, and took a moment in silence to think.

"It's just there, Crash. When we started off as this," he gestured to himself, "we didn't talk much. We practiced but gave up quickly. And we don't train as much because of it. You could just tell."

He buried his head into my shoulder, his fire hydrant red hair splaying and brushing against my cheek. In this moment he needed me just as much I, him. For once I didn't feel tiny. I treasured the moment as though it was the last I had to live.

Neither of us said anything. It wasn't an unsettling silence: it was comfortable silence. The kind that you could practically wrap around yourself like a blanket. The only person who I'd ever felt so thankful for was Bea. She'd been my guiding light, and my teacher as to how to survive this distorted world. But Poison was something more than just a teacher: there was nothing studious about how we treated each other. He was my guardian without the usual stiffness.

He patted my back, and I clung to him for dear life, because I knew if I let go I'd only collapse again. That was the way things had a tendency to go with me: depend on people, have them help me keep myself together. The moment they step away I'm back to being vulnerable. One big never ending circle that I knew was part of human nature, but felt made me weak. And in a world where one had to fend for one's self, it made me downright pathetic.

"Crash...it'll be okay. You can get through this. You might end up like us, and stagger a little bit every time you come in here, but you can do it. We'll help you if we have to. But don't give up on yourself," he said. It didn't come out sounding like an option; it came out sounding like a demand. A well meaning demand, yes; but still a whole hearted demand. I nodded, flattered that he was so worried about me. And at the same time I knew that I needed to hear it.

"Poison, I was thinking...Bea and I didn't come down here alone...you see, me and Bea were transported along with an Orphanage."

**A/N CLIFFHANGER! I know you guys probably hate me for this right now but (famous last words) I'm going to try to update faster than this in the long run. I love writing for you guys and knowing that you guys can appreciate my nerdiness. Because let's face it, I think my creative writing teacher would look at me as though I were insane if she ever read this. I love you guys. I hope you haven't all abandoned me because I've been taking my time with this. I really never meant for this to get dragged on the way it did and being something I put on this back burner. I've been busy, but still. Sooo….what the hell do you think of this incredibly emotional chapter? Predictions? Thoughts on Crash and Poison's relationship? Anything you want to hear about or know about? (Like details of my world of California 2019). Crash need confidence? (I was like her when I wrote that and since have gotten better, just a heads up that I'm not mopey anymore.) Suggestions? I want to know, anything at all. Even if you don't have much to say, please post something, I could use some love right now because i want to know there are at least some people who haven't given up on this fanfic. sooo….REVIEW!**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N Okay, the last chapter got a lot of hits. I checked. Yet only one review? I'm pissed, I'm going to be quite Frank about that (pun intended). I post for the satisfaction that I know I've got readers who appreciate my writing. But when I get *tons* of readers and no reviews, that's where I get annoyed. I like getting reviews not for the attention, but to check in with you guys and your opinions, see if I'm doing things right or wrong. Without that, I feel less motivation to write. So please, review. I'm throwing you a bone by posting this short chapter so soon in response to the cliffy. I know how bitchy I sound, but please try to see things through my POV. I'm frustrated.**

**Disclaimer: none of the My Chem members are mine to keep. What a pity.**

He blinked.

"Orphanage?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yup, St. Helena's Orphanage. We were forced to make an attempt to move somewhere safe when the bomb went off. Fortunately, a majority of us were underground when the bomb went off: most of the orphanage was built to be underground because it was built as a military base, so it was meant to be able to survive an event like the one that went off. It later became St. Helena's. But after the bomb, children were made priority, so we went down here," I explained quietly. He nodded patiently, obviously at a loss for words. He was taking this rather well.

"Okay…" he murmured "so where are they now?" he asked.

I closed my eyes.

"Not long after me and Bea got here Better Living Industries schemes were kicking into gear. They were putting out propaganda advertising their Miracle Pills and as it got worse we wanted to leave: we felt trapped. Most of the other orphans were younger than us, and from what I can recall, Bea was in fact the oldest. Nearly 17, actually. As things got worse, we had to hide. None of us wanted to give into the BL/ind. But Bea and I got more rebellious with every day that it got more dangerous. So we upped and left. We supplied them with food from the BL/ind pantry, but we left them behind to fight the Dracs. The last I checked, they are still in the same place. We **did **check on them every so often. I think we gave them enough food over time to last them a lifetime…but I want to go out and find them again."

Poison didn't say anything, and if I hadn't known any better this might have unnerved me. But knowing him better than that, I knew if it wasn't an awkward, stunned silence. No, it was silent contemplation. And I was aware all too well all I could do now was wait.

"Alright… so what's the plan?" he asked.

I hated myself for being as scared as I was: you'd think after all this time I'd be looser around him. I mean, for God's sake, I was in his arms balling like a baby. You'd think I'd be able to spit a simple sentence or so, but my nerves had gotten the best of me for the moment.

"I wanted to know if we - I - could go out there and find them, see how they're doing," I managed.

He closed his eyes, and I felt like pulling a face-palm moment. I just had to open my big mouth. I couldn't just be happy with what I had? I heaved a sigh, my hair out of my face. He was too busy thinking to notice I as dying in his arms, wanting to know what he had to say, wilting like a flower because of my own impatience.

"With or without us?"

**A/N And with that, I am to write the rest of the most recent chapter that comes after this. Please review. I'm tired of asking. I don't want to be a nag. This is my longest continuous fic that I've written, and one of the reasons it keeps going is because I have readers for it that keep me inspired. Please don't let that die.**


	13. Why, hello there beautiful

**A/N hey guys, Crash here! It's been a long while since I've posted a chapter. I'm terribly sorry about that. Believe me, I've got a chapter underway, but it's been coming along slowly. Between writing essays and trying not to have a total meltdown over stuff that's happened in the past couple of months, I've just been trying to salvage whatever sanity I have left. I'm sorry I've gotten frustrated with the lack of reviews. I need to calm my Drac-dusting ass down and be more patient. Thank you cindella204 for the review, to tell you the truth I'd put this story on the back burner for a long while while I dealt with other stuff and forgot about it. You just reminded me that it's still here, how much I used to love it, and how much I still do. The new chapter is decent length so far, but for how long I've made you guys wait I think it should be longer. I have to make up for my…erm…**_**little **_**break. **

**Love you guys to death. You are the reason I haven't given up. **

**Keep running**

**Stay shiny**

**& Stay beautiful & keep it ugly, my loves. **


	14. Chapter 12

**A/N H****EYLO MY CHICKADEES :D I know, this is long overdue . Waaaaaaaaaaaaay overdue (pun intended). But in the past few months I have 1. Dated a complete psycho 2. Broken up with a complete psycho 3. Rebuilt myself from ashes and 4. Currently dating a new guy who actually is more than I could have ever asked for. On top of that, I'm trying to keep my grades in school as high as possible. I've set a goal for myself to be on the honor roll. I've been dealing with emotionally distressed friends, being asked to prom, my art teacher is making me redo a project 2 days before it's due, and experimenting with trying out for the track team (…which ended badly.)**

**All in all, it's been completely and totally, without a doubt, **_**INSANE.**_

**I wanted to thank you guys though, for being here and supporting this story. Even though this story isn't my **_**entire**_** life, having people support something I love so much during a time like this means a lot. **

**3 So thank you 3 **

**Enjoy the long, well deserved chapter. Hopefully I'll have more up soon, or at least soon-ish.**

**Disclaimer: MCR is not mine, though they are on my Christmas wish list.**

I shuffled nervously with Poison at my side. I was nothing but smiles, yet the ache of nervousness ate away at me. I never could have foreseen this: I never would have thought that my new family could replace my old one, let alone wish to guide me with reuniting with them. _Family_. The word its self had become unfamiliar on my tongue. Yet it seemed perfectly normal to be referring to them as such.

"Hey Baby, would you get a move on? We can only walk so fast without stepping on your feet," Ghoul grumbled behind me. I smiled, that one daunting word sparking my instincts that had temporarily disappeared. I spun around to face him.

"Don't call me that," I retorted, my tone not too serious. My neon pink nails sparkled expectantly on the stairway railing.

"What? Baby?" he asked with mock innocence. I knew perfectly well of the game he was playing.

"Yes, Grumbling Fool, that," I smirked. I knew how much he detested my nickname for him. I knew it annoyed him almost, if not as much, as my own.

I stuck my out my tongue at him.

He tickled my side. I giggled, losing my composure. My foot nearly slipped on the stair it was on. Ghoul didn't fail to notice this. I sent him a serious glare.

"Not here, not now. I don't feel like falling to my death or breaking a limb," I frowned. He nodded: I could tell he didn't like the mental image much either.

Kobra closed in on me from behind. It took me a minute to realize why: if I slipped, he could catch my fall. I smiled at him gently, and he fidgeted a bit before returning my grin. He literally had my back.

"Come on slow poke!" Poison daunted lightly before leading the way once more. The stairwell was dark, and the air was earthy and even dusty, the steps worn past the point of hope of even polishing them or fixing them up. Was that the work or my killjoys or the old occupants of this building?

Every stair was agonizing and the number of questions in my head doubled by the second. Would the world be the same as I remembered it? Would my friends recognize me? Would Dracs spot us? Would we be able to make it with the children? Were they even going to be in the same place I remembered?

I groaned.

Too much thinking.

At this rate I am going to implode.

I turned to Ray, who was at my far right. I looked at the approaching stairs and back at him. He knew what this meant. He smiled and shrugged. _What could go wrong_? I followed his lead: I shrugged and shook my head, a simple frown gracing my face. _I don't know. But I don't want to think about it._

I felt my ray gun sitting readily in its holster. Each rhinestone was a reminder that there was the inevitable: The Good vs. The Bad. That someone was going to win and another lose. One side would be dusted while the other would take root. Were we the good guys or the bad guys?

I closed my eyes.

_Now's not the time for an identity crisis, Sarah._

I shook my short but full bodied mane of brown wavy hair, forbidding further thoughts on the topic from my mind. Recently I'd deciding cut it short would be much lighter and easier to maintain. My hair, that is. 

"Baby, why didn't you tell us earlier?" Ghoul asked from my immediate left in front of me. My hand gripped the railing as a wave of dizziness hit me.

Why hadn't I?

Was it fear of rejection? Fear of pity? Or flat out fear of not knowing what the reaction would be in general? Or could it have been that I had just wanted to forget and start over...?

"I don't know Ghoul. Honestly, I don't even know if it even occurred to me as being relevant."

I sighed. Sometimes all I wanted was to forget everything I had known. There was little point in dwelling in the past. But it somehow always managed to bounce back at me without my permission, and infect my consciousness. And I hated that.

Kobra grabbed my hand from behind and shot me the kind of look that pierced my heart. _You don't need to lie. It's okay. _

I half heartedly smiled before shaking my head modestly. _Thank you._ I patted his hand.

"Will you be okay?" he asked. I shrugged.

"I have absolutely no clue, Kobra," I grimaced.

He patted my shoulder and I sighed, feeling the concerned gaze of the rest of my killjoys. The blush rose to my cheeks; when had I become the subject of attention and worry? Attention not being something I was capable of handling, I took another step up the stairs.

"Well come on, we want to make it by nightfall, not dawn. They'll have patrols out by then," I said with false enthusiasm.

I knew they were exchanging concerned glances, but I keep going up the stairs, hoping that my falsely cheery facade was infectious, and more importantly, believable.

My voice was light and effortless as I stared upwards to the next flight of stairs. The stairs themselves seemed never ending. 

_"I don't wanna know, _  
_I don't wanna go, _  
_I don't gotta know where I'm gonna die."_

I sang under my breath, doubting very much that the sound could carry down to them, so I didn't feel the need take caution or stop singing.

_"I don't wanna know, _  
_I don't wanna go, _  
_I don't gotta know where I'm gonna die,"_ I sang, something almost as edgy as fury in my voice.

_"Scratch the mark, _  
_Spit casually._  
_The heart you got ain't the one you need!"_ I sang, my voice hushed,  
_I'm at a loss_  
_because of tragedy!_  
_The life you got ain't the one you need!"_

Me singing to myself was NOT going to calm me down. Especially not the kind of song I was singing. It only wracked my nerves as I wondered that despite my low volume and the distance, the possibility that my friends had heard me. _**Fuck**_. _**Fuck fuckity fuck**_**. PERFECT.**

I let a growl sound in the back of my throat. _Why must you open your big red rimmed mouth, Sarah?_

Stupid. Stupid. **Stupid.**

I mentally chastised myself until I couldn't think anything, and could only blankly stare ahead. Stairs. More stairs. I had never realized how deep underground we were until that moment. I couldn't help but wonder if this had been a complete building before the bomb.

I turned around for a moment and saw a sight that to me was all I needed to live: the faces of the men loved me and had taken care of me. I was Snow White, and they were my dwarves: Sassy, Awkward, Dopey and Scruffy.

I tried to stifle a giggle as a mental image of an old almost unheard of cartoon popped into my head, the faces of my heroes' midget sized and appropriately faced and hatted. The movie itself had long been missing from the world, but from the little I could remember of life before the bomb, I could remember the animated movie making me smile. Even if the princess had been nothing but pampered, and faced virtually no challenges. All she did was break a promise and sleep for a little while, a typical damsel in distress.

Things like this pissed me off. Fairytales made women seem weak and reliant. Sleeping Beauty slept for the same reason as Snow White: she couldn't listen. And once again, she had to be saved by a prince. Ariel disobeyed her parents and went to the sea witch, and when faced with the choice of stabbing her prince to become a mermaid again, she chose to plunge the magic dagger into herself and become sea foam. At least in the Brothers Grimm version. But once again, more obedience issues. Why couldn't s princess be smart and strong?

Why couldn't girls like Bea get that kind of recognition for being brave?

I breathed slowly. The number of steps seemed innumerable, and the walls felt narrower than ever.

"Does this place have a god damn exit?"

I asked, the annoyance in my voice palpable. My nerves were just about shot, and at the moment the thing I felt I'd most need was fresh air. It felt as thought I'd been climbing the same set of stairs for hours to no avail.

"No, we just have a never ending food supply down stairs," Kobra replied, being his snarky but awkward self. I smiled.

"That possibility is beginning to sound more and more probable."

I sighed and slumped against the railing.

"Tired?" Jet asked from behind me.

"What does it look like to you?" I replied.

"Cry baby," Ghoul snorted. I sent him a half hearted glare.

"Excuse me, but in don't think I've ever climbed so many stairs in my life," I retorted. I slid down the wall and let my head thud and hit the wall, "...ow.," I groaned. I let my eyes close, if only just to rest them for a minute.

I felt a boot jab my side. I let out a growl in the back of my throat.

"Come on lazypants. We haven't got all day, you said so yourself."

It was Ghoul's voice. I could have killed him.

I groaned loudly.

"Bite me," I mumbled

"Care to elaborate where?" Kobra smirked. I rolled my eyes warily, progressively getting more aggravated. One moment of silence, was that so hard to ask for? Just one. I need a minute to myself to breathe.

"If you don't shut up for a minute, I'm not going anywhere," I hissed, "i can't stand the constant voices in my fucking ear. Just be quiet! I can't even think!"

As there was a long uncomfortable pause, I felt the backlash of my words.

"Do you really want that? Because I could leave," Kobra offered, sounding resentful.

I sat there in utter shame of what I'd said. I hadn't meant it, and I hadn't meant for it to inflict pain.

"Do you?" he asked sharply.

I sat there slumped against the wall, muted by the mistake I'd made in my haste. I couldn't look him in the eyes. I couldn't look at any of them. I moistened my lips and kept my eyes on my hands.

"Of course I don't."

My voice was quiet. Ashamed. I couldn't bring myself to speak any louder. I knew I was being emotional in every way possible. I was snappy, and suddenly I was filled with remorse.

I could feel them all watching me, each waiting for the other to say something or make some kind of gesture. Kobra moved from my peripheral vision to kneeling in front of me. He looked me in the eyes, and I saw a small spark of fascination. I don't think he'd ever noticed the curious thing about my eyes before that. But just as quickly he was serious again.

"If you want me to leave, I could go right ahead now," he said, looking me dead in the eyes, hardly any space between us, "I can't go out there with you if you're not going to be able to endure this shit and snap at us. We're only here to support you, and we can't do that if you're bitching at us. At least I know I can't."

I closed my eyes, and I felt a hand grasp my shoulder.

"Can I have a minute with her alone?" Kobra's voice asked. There was silence and then footsteps.

"I'm sorry Mikey," I murmured. He stared at me I surprised recognition at his name, "I didn't mean to snap. I didn't mean to bitch at you. I'm so completely overwhelmed and wrecked. But that's not your fault. I can't believe I'm so stupid..."

I looked him in the eyes for the first time. My eyes were glassy with tears, which I would never, in order to preserve what little dignity I had at this point, let fall. Without warning he pulled me close to him, and held me tight.

"We all are Sarah. Most of the time I still can't even sleep at night. The day of the bomb plays on my eyelids on repeat. But we have to stick together. You can't be getting upset so easily because we need eachother. We're all eachother's got," he whispered conclusively. As the silence filled the air, I felt him stroke my hair lightly, almost protectively.

"I need you. All of you. I'm just so..." I grunted in frustration at my own lack of words,"...strained. I can't believe I snapped at you..." I gulped, trying to swallow the small lump in my throat that just kept coming back.

Kobra continued to stroke my hair. I was pressed to him, my head on his shoulder. He emanated warmth, and he'd gone from hostile to soothing. Slowly my muscles relaxed, and I felt increasingly at ease in his care.

"I'm so temperamental sometimes. I always have been since the bomb. And I don't think losing Bea has helped."

There was a broken quality to my voice. I was a self professed trainwreck, and I was more than certain that at this point Kobra was going to be more than glad to drop me like a hot ember. I'd pushed his buttons, what could I have possibly expected? Shits and giggles? Cupcakes with rainbow frosting?

"It's okay Sarah," he murmured. His voice was soft, softer than I'd ever heard it as long as I'd known him. "it's okay." he rubbed my back, and slowly I let myself sink into his arms in total surrender. "We need eachother. In this world, we're all eachother's got to fight for anymore. It's okay to be upset, because hell, all of us are. I know I am. But don't work against the people who need you and want to protect you. There are very few things we have, and the most important thing is our loyalty to eachother."

As I leaned into him in silence and inhaled his scent of gasoline, leather and a hint of something sweet, I sighed and just nodded. There was very little I could say.

"I'm always here for you if you need me," he whispered, "if you need cookies and warm milk, a joke, a pair of ears, anything," he pulled away from me and looked me in the eyes, "I'm always here."

There was a long pause as we maintained silent eye contact, an unspoken message relayed that could not possibly be said in words.

He slowly let go of me and stood up. He staggered a little from what appeared to be the symptoms of vertigo and I laughed in spite of myself. He smiled.

"Glad you enjoy my social inept-ness."

He held out his hand and helped me to my feet before brushing a stray hair away from my face.

"Stand tall. They can only break you if you let them."

Without further thought, I pulled him into a hug. I don't know what drove me to do so, but within half a second I had him in a bear hug, and this time it was me holding him.

"Oh Mikey...," I murmured, my voice like a gentle breeze of wind. There was an indescribable intensity, and a strange kind of intimacy. There were no words exchanged, only the tight embrace in which I had my face buried in his lean chest, and his head rested on my shoulder. There was an unspoken connection and an invisible bond that hadn't previously existed.

He felt my pain, knew it. Lived it. The killjoy who I'd had the most questionable relationship with was now the one who I needed to feel close to. And as we hugged, I felt as though I truly was.

There was nothing said because there was nothing to say. There was a mutual understanding that we stood on the same ground, and saw through the same eyes.

"Thank you," I whispered. My voice was almost latent, a wisp of smoke. I gingerly played with his hair, before intentionally messing it up and smirking. He looked as me in irked surprise.

"What was that for?" he asked.

I smiled at him mischievously.

"For not telling me who the hell Gerard is."

**A/N and there you go! So…if you're wondering what just happened there…I don't even know. This fic is not supposed to have anything pairings in it, but for some reason writing that last bit felt necessary. I don't know. I just wrote what came to me, and that just HAPPENED. Also, I haven't been doing absolute nothing this whole time between updates: I've been revamping/retouching past chapters 1 by 1 and correcting typos and such. Overall I think everything is a tad better now. **

**Okay, so if anyone wants to be in this fic, TELL ME NOW. You can make an appearance as an orphan ;) I'll have to know some basic stuff about you and your killjoy, but if you want to be in here or incorporated in here somehow, NOW IS THE TIME. Message me, put it in a review, ****something.**

**Finally, before I conclude this long epilogue, if you guys want you can find me on my killjoy account on Facebook Sarah CrashBaby Way is the name. welp, this is probably the longest chapter I've written on here. R&R and I hope you guys enjoy it. **


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